Date: 35th of Ymiden, Arc 719
Weapons: None
Buffs: N/A
Status: Watching
Weapons: None
Armor: None
Buffs: N/A
Debuffs: N/A
“Praetorum, my friend, if I ask you what you’re doing—“ Ricky said, not taking his eyes off his opponent for a moment— “will I regret it?”
Across from him, Selyin laughed sharply, finishing off her stretching and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Probably not.” Praetorum called out from beyond the boundaries of the sparring ring. “But who knows, you might discover a heretofore unknown allergy to magic. Weirder things have been known to happen.”
“Yeah, weird like you.” Ricky retorted. Insults were not his strong suit, Praetorum noted with a slight smile. Well, he made up for it in other ways.
Ricky’s frequency was more musical than the others Prae had heard before, with far more of the cheer and camaraderie of a camp than the clash of battle. Selyin’s was quiet, like Marken’s, but with a deep undercurrent of steel to it, and laced through with both grim funeral dirge and a cheery tune, the type of which accompanied bawdy songs in every inn that had ever existed. Something about the combination made Prae deeply sad, though he couldn't have said why.
Vague impressions and notes floated through his mind, and part of him sorted idly through them as the two combatants took up their positions on opposite sides of the ring. Mostly though, he watched the two mercenaries watch each other as they both drew their weapons. Ricky held a cutlass in one hand, while Selyin held a longsword in both.
For one long moment, they were still. Then their two frequencies twanged in quick succession, and they were in motion, steel clashing against steel in the center of the arena.
Praetorum leaned forwards. Damn. His eyes had caught the motions as they happened, but his spark had been to slow to understand the shift in their notes until it was too late.
Shaking his head lightly, he refocused, frowning at the fight before him, trying to predict each attack before it was made, as the two Yari went at each other, again and again.
The problem, Prae reflected, was that they were both well trained, very experienced warriors. Many of their movements were as much muscle memory as conscious thought, which made the change in their frequencies even subtler. By listening carefully, he could sometimes tell that they were about to do something, but what that something would be frequently eluded him.
Ricky was on the offensive now, and Prae could hear a little of that in his song, a note of attack singing a little loudly in him. Selyin was more focused on defense, and Praetorum listened as the slam of steel to shield rang through her frequency, right up until it disappeared.
Praetorum straightened up at that, his eyes snapping directly to Selyin's sword hand. That was the only reason he saw the instant where her stance shifted; a heartbeat later, she'd knocked Ricky off balance, and was raining blows down upon him as he retreated from her onslaught.
It was advanced knowledge by only a trill, but in the heat of combat, that might well turn the tide of battle. Prae was more certain now than ever: he could use this magic in combat. Perhaps trying to predict every blow had been too ambitious, but he'd been able to see—hear, rather—how Selyin had planned to change the flow of combat. If he could do that consistently, or even most of the time, that would be another tool in his arsenal.
One he would need dearly in the trials to come.
He listened carefully, hearing notes of strain in both of them; could he figure out which of them was tiring faster? Before he could try, another change caught his attention, Ricky's frequency shifting around a complex drumbeat.
Praetorum snatched at that change, his spark examining it closely. Inexperienced as Prae was in attunement, Ricky made his move before Prae could decipher the note; with a shift of his weight, he feinted left at Selyin's leg, then swept his cutlass around to slice at her right arm. The truth of the note came to Prae as Selyin barely managed to deflect the blow away.
It was deception.
Across from him, Selyin laughed sharply, finishing off her stretching and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Probably not.” Praetorum called out from beyond the boundaries of the sparring ring. “But who knows, you might discover a heretofore unknown allergy to magic. Weirder things have been known to happen.”
“Yeah, weird like you.” Ricky retorted. Insults were not his strong suit, Praetorum noted with a slight smile. Well, he made up for it in other ways.
Ricky’s frequency was more musical than the others Prae had heard before, with far more of the cheer and camaraderie of a camp than the clash of battle. Selyin’s was quiet, like Marken’s, but with a deep undercurrent of steel to it, and laced through with both grim funeral dirge and a cheery tune, the type of which accompanied bawdy songs in every inn that had ever existed. Something about the combination made Prae deeply sad, though he couldn't have said why.
Vague impressions and notes floated through his mind, and part of him sorted idly through them as the two combatants took up their positions on opposite sides of the ring. Mostly though, he watched the two mercenaries watch each other as they both drew their weapons. Ricky held a cutlass in one hand, while Selyin held a longsword in both.
For one long moment, they were still. Then their two frequencies twanged in quick succession, and they were in motion, steel clashing against steel in the center of the arena.
Praetorum leaned forwards. Damn. His eyes had caught the motions as they happened, but his spark had been to slow to understand the shift in their notes until it was too late.
Shaking his head lightly, he refocused, frowning at the fight before him, trying to predict each attack before it was made, as the two Yari went at each other, again and again.
The problem, Prae reflected, was that they were both well trained, very experienced warriors. Many of their movements were as much muscle memory as conscious thought, which made the change in their frequencies even subtler. By listening carefully, he could sometimes tell that they were about to do something, but what that something would be frequently eluded him.
Ricky was on the offensive now, and Prae could hear a little of that in his song, a note of attack singing a little loudly in him. Selyin was more focused on defense, and Praetorum listened as the slam of steel to shield rang through her frequency, right up until it disappeared.
Praetorum straightened up at that, his eyes snapping directly to Selyin's sword hand. That was the only reason he saw the instant where her stance shifted; a heartbeat later, she'd knocked Ricky off balance, and was raining blows down upon him as he retreated from her onslaught.
It was advanced knowledge by only a trill, but in the heat of combat, that might well turn the tide of battle. Prae was more certain now than ever: he could use this magic in combat. Perhaps trying to predict every blow had been too ambitious, but he'd been able to see—hear, rather—how Selyin had planned to change the flow of combat. If he could do that consistently, or even most of the time, that would be another tool in his arsenal.
One he would need dearly in the trials to come.
He listened carefully, hearing notes of strain in both of them; could he figure out which of them was tiring faster? Before he could try, another change caught his attention, Ricky's frequency shifting around a complex drumbeat.
Praetorum snatched at that change, his spark examining it closely. Inexperienced as Prae was in attunement, Ricky made his move before Prae could decipher the note; with a shift of his weight, he feinted left at Selyin's leg, then swept his cutlass around to slice at her right arm. The truth of the note came to Prae as Selyin barely managed to deflect the blow away.
It was deception.
